Home Is Where The Hatred Is

Not sure why, but the latest dose of noise-infused sludge from Primitive Man isn't quite destroying me like their first LP did. Sure, it features all the right woeful ingredients (huge, clumped-up riffs; bleak, soul-scraping vocals; endless bouts of punishing dissonance; brain-fraying atonality...) but the end results are somehow not as vile as anticipated. Maybe the fact that I was anticipating it helped take the edge off a little, or allowed me to subconsciously prepare myself – mentally, physically, spiritually – for the assault, in which case the fault perhaps lays with me rather than them. The only thing that I do find a bit unsettling is the dubious cover art and the woman-in-pleasure moaning amid the crackling noise of the last track. The reason for it all is unclear, and while in this day and age you'd like to think some canny artistic or political point was being made I guess I've just been listening to punk rock for too long for it not to raise a red flag.
Home Is Where The Hatred Is by Primitive Man